The Perfect Blend by Donna Marie Rogers Read Free Book Online Page B

any chance they had of...of what? Hell, Matt was half in love with her, and for all he knew she thought of him like a big brother.
    Then again, a woman didn’t put on makeup and wear sexy clothes for her big brother. Hell, if she didn’t send out so many mixed signals he’d know which way was up. And all the vibes she sent out were—
    “Matt? You all right?”
    Carrie gazed at him with a frown of concern. He chuckled, praying like hell she couldn’t read minds. Then again, if she could, she’d have slammed the door in his face two seconds after answering it. “Yeah, sorry. Just hoping Lindy made it back to the cottage safe.”
    “Oh.” She sounded disappointed, which confused him even more. “Well, give her a quick call. I need to run upstairs for something anyway.”
    * * *
    Carrie raced up the stairs and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She shouldn’t have presented the key like it was some sort of gift or something. He had as much right to have a key to Coffee To Chai For as she did. But the look on his face...almost as if a spider had dropped into his palm, the way he’d gawked at it.
    Carrie pushed away from the door and checked herself in the mirror. What he must think, she thought, holding back tears. Normally she didn’t bother with makeup, and she rarely wore anything other than the black slacks and the cute T-shirts she sported for work. Tonight she’d taken a chance and prettied herself up. What a joke. Her makeup was so heavy it looked like a child had applied it; her boobs were one good bounce away from freedom, and her tight jeans would leave angry lines that lasted a week.
    Okay, so he hadn’t flown across the table and kissed her breathless. Certainly not the end of the world. Carrie tore off a piece of toilet paper and dabbed at her eyes. Matt wasn’t interested in her that way. She’d read all the signs wrong. And if he were a gentleman, he’d never mention this night again.
    After a few deep, calming breaths, she opened the door and headed back downstairs. Matt stood at her kitchen sink gazing out the window. The sun had already started its downward descent, but there was still plenty of light to see her backyard.
    He glanced over his shoulder as she approached, and a welcoming smile transformed his handsome face. Carrie wanted to kiss him something fierce, but she didn’t dare. She’d never be able to live down the humiliation if he backed away when she leaned in.
    She walked up beside him and looked out into her yard. “So whatcha looking at?”
    “You have a hammock.”
    He said it with near reverence, and she was hard-pressed not to laugh. “Yep. My parents started the tradition. This used to be their house. I bought it from them when they moved their practice to Green Bay.”
    “So you grew up in Redemption then?”
    She nodded. “Born and raised. Well, actually, I was born in a hospital in Green Bay, but you know what I mean.”
    “Can we try it?”
    “Huh?”
    He chuckled. “The hammock. I’ve never been on one before. Are they as hard to lie on as they’re made out to be?”
    He looked so darn hopeful, Carrie wanted to laugh.
    “Not once you get the hang of it. Come on.” She motioned him to follow her outside and led him toward the two stately oak trees her father estimated were over three hundred years old. The hammock, however, was new. Her father’s old Pawley had finally given out after over two decades of service, so Carrie replaced it with a soft as silk, multicolored Mayan without a spreader bar. Heaven.
    The sweet scent of petunias filled the air, as did the four o’clocks her mother loved so much, and the night blooming jasmine—Carrie’s personal favorite. Her mother had started the night garden when Carrie was still in diapers, and although her time was limited these days, Carrie enjoyed it too much to give it up.
    “Smells nice,” Matt commented as he fingered one of the many pink, purple, and white blooms